


Prison Blues

by plisetskees



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, M/M, fuck idk im not finished with the fic yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plisetskees/pseuds/plisetskees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba just wanted to get some money to pay off his suppliers. He didn't want to get pinched, and he definitely didn't want to end up in prison with a murderer as his cellmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so ive been working on this one for weeks idk im kind of just gonna throw it out there to test the waters? if it isn't liked I might not push through bc this is a hell of a fic it is very very hard to write
> 
> but yeah, my prison au. I've never been to prison, so im not sure how accurate it might be, but my dad is a cop and ive seen orange is the new  
> black so who knows??? Lets try this out guys lets go

"Seragaki, Aoba?" The man in front of him asked. 

"Yeah, that's me." Aoba answered.

"In for one count of felony possession of a controlled substance, one count of felony possession of a firearm, and a count of robbery?" He asked. Aoba could only nod. Hearing his crimes read back to him in such a bored tone made him feel a little bit sick. Or maybe it was the gaudy orange jumpsuit he was wearing, or the bland grey walls, or maybe the jail food he had eaten as he waited to be transported to the place he was currently being booked at. It could be from the fact that he was starting to come down from the pills he had somehow managed to get his hands on before his transport. He wasn't sure, though.

"You've been searched already?" He asked.

"Yes, sir." Aoba shivered at the thought of the search he had been subjected to. The pervy old man who had done it seemed way too interested in patting him down.

"Then that's all I need to know. Here's your shit, follow me." The man thrust a bag full of basic toiletries and a pair of shoes at Aoba, and started to walk. Aoba dutifully followed him deeper into the prison, to the cell blocks. They stopped at a cell, and the guard opened it. 

"Good luck then, Seragaki." He said, ushering Aoba inside. Once Aoba was behind the bars, the door shut, and the man left Aoba alone, staring at the small window of the cell door longingly. 

For a long time, that's all Aoba did. He stared outside as best he was able to, and he thought about what had brought him to where he was then.

-

_"This is definitely gonna make up for the lost supply?" Aoba slurred. He was high, like he always seemed to be, but there was a hint of anxiety to his voice. No matter how many drugs he pumped into his system (and he had pumped a lot into himself this time around,) he would never be ready for what he was about to do._

_"Of course. If you can get us the money, we'll call it even." Virus didn't sound the least bit nervous. Of course, he wasn't the one who was going to commit an armed robbery._

_"What if… what if I get pinched?" Aoba asked. When he agreed to get the money, he had only thought of his two supplier's threats of violence. He agreed blindly, wanting to save his own skin. But now, with a gun sitting heavy in the waistband of his pants, Aoba was scared._

_"That's an easy one," Trip answered. "Don't get pinched."_

_The two suppliers laughed for a moment, but Aoba couldn't even stomach to chuckle. Anxiety was starting to eat up at him. Sure, Trip and Virus had probably held plenty of places up, but Aoba was a scared, 19-year-old junkie who just wanted to keep both his kneecaps unbroken. He was scared._

_"You got the gun?" Virus asked. Aoba nodded._

_"And it's loaded?" Trip asked next. Aoba nodded again._

_"Then whenever you're ready," Virus said with a grin. He probably really loved corrupting the youth of America._

_But Aoba didn't have time to reflect on how shitty of a person Virus was, because the words that just left the older man's lips had a meaning behind them that Aoba understood quite clearly. Even though Virus had told Aoba to go whenever he was ready, the look in his eyes told Aoba that he better get out of that alley and into the store right then, or getting pinched would be the least of his worries._

_So Aoba pulled the mask out of his hoodie pocket and pulled it over his head, and left the two men alone in the alley without another word._

_Aoba walked into the store, feeling his legs shake as he did so. When he pulled the gun out of his waistband, he heard someone scream in terror, but he was too far gone to care. He ignored it, and walked on to the counter where a terrified looking young woman was working._

_"I need all your money, just put it in my bag." Aoba slurred out. He pulled a cloth bag from his pocket and thrust it at the cashier, holding the gun with his other hand. Aoba had no idea how he was doing all this so smoothly, but he chalked it up to the combination of drugs and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Not to mention what he knew would happen if he failed. "Don't make me do anything we'll regret."_

_The woman nodded, and opened up the register. She pulled out all the money in her register. There couldn't have been more than $500, but Virus and Trip said this would cover everything. Aoba had to believe they weren't lying._

_Once the bag was full, Aoba bolted out of the store and ran to the alleyway. He wanted to get rid of the money, and wash his hands of this whole situation. Aoba swore to himself that once this was over, he would give up dealing. Fuck, he might go all the way and just get sober. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt like throwing up. He just wanted to give his suppliers the money._

_But Trip and Virus were gone._

_"Okay, that's understandable, it's probably bad to be outside of the place where the crime took place when you hand off the money." Aoba was talking to himself, and he probably sounded crazy. But he had just committed a robbery, and he was higher than he had been in his life, and he felt he deserved the right to act a little bit crazy._

_Aoba pulled the mask off, and tossed it down the alleyway. That was evidence, and he wanted that as far away as possible. He tried to focus on what would be rational. The cashier had most likely called the cops, and he probably had about 3 minutes to get away and find Virus and Trip to hand off the money before he got caught._

_"That's doable," he said out loud, and left the alley. He stumbled down the street, brainstorming places that Virus and Trip might be. He decided to start at their house._

_He never got the chance to get there, though. Around 30 seconds after he started his journey, he was tackled to the ground by a large police officer._

_It wasn't until he was cuffed and sitting in the back of the squad car that the gravity of what he had just done hit Aoba, and he started having a panic attack and hyperventilating in the back of the car. The policeman who tackled him was sympathetic, but did nothing to help him. There was nothing he could do. Aoba had committed a crime, and he was about to do the time._

-

"Who the fuck are you?" A deep, monotone voice brought Aoba out of his trance. It startled him so badly he jumped back, and nearly fell to the concrete floor. He was so deep in thought, he hadn't even noticed that the door in front of him had opened, and another man in a jumpsuit had walked in. He was tall and tan, with dark brown dreadlocks. He had a look on his face that made Aoba shiver.

"Your cellmate." The guard said gruffly before shutting the heavy metal door. 

The man, apparently Aoba's cellmate, let out an angry sigh and didn't acknowledge Aoba beyond that. He went straight to his bed, and sat down, leaning against the wall.

Aoba, who didn't really look around the cell beforehand, put his measly bag of toiletries onto the bed and glanced around. The room didn't have much to look at; two beds, a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. It was sparse, but it was prison. Aoba wasn't expecting much. He sat down on his bed, and stole a look at his cellmate. 

Said cellmate was giving him a death glare, so Aoba glanced away.

"Uh, I'm Aoba Seragaki." Aoba muttered out. His cellmate didn't say anything back. _Rude_ , Aoba thought, but didn't voice that. "I got sentenced for three years, so I guess we're going to become really good friends?"

"Mink. And we aren't going to be friends." The cellmate said harshly. Oh, okay. Aoba didn't need to be friends with his cellmate, he guessed. 

So Aoba kept his mouth shut, and the two sat in silence for a while. A sense of dread washed over him, forcing him to become anxious. He was fully sober now, for the first time in a long time which wasn't helping him calm down and think about things rationally. 

Prison wasn't going to be a walk in the park. It was going to be a long three years.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I had 1&2 finished, and am working on 3. (This is a seriously hard fic guys idk dont expect me to update as fast as I did hot for teacher)

Aoba sighed with relief when a guard opened up the cell door and called him out for dinner. Even though he hadn't said a word, Mink was draining. Every single look from him filled Aoba with anxiety, and made him feel self conscious. 

He was probably going to be alone in the dining hall, but he would probably be happier alone than with Mink. His cellmate didn't say what he had done to get locked up (in fact he didn't say a word,) but Aoba was sure it was probably something horrible and violent.

So Aoba gladly took the opportunity to get away from him. He sat at a table alone, and began to eat. This wasn't so bad; it was a lot like high school, or at least what Aoba remembered from it. Maybe if he just thought of prison like a big, more violent high school, where he didn't have any access to drugs, it would be easier. 

Aoba was totally content with his own company, and stayed alone, until someone sat down next to him. 

"You seem lonely. First day?" They asked, and Aoba looked over. The man sitting beside him had long, dark hair and scars on his face. Tattoos covered his right arm and the right side of his face. He was Asian, like Aoba, and Aoba had a sudden fear that he was about to be inducted into an Asian gang.

"Uh, yeah." Aoba said softly. 

"I'm Koujaku." The man introduced himself. 

"I'm Seragaki." Aoba said, remembering the Orange is the New Black episodes he binge watched when he realized he would be going to prison. Prisoners used last names.

"You don't have to use your last name." Koujaku laughed. Aoba looked away in embarrassment. He didn't know the first thing about prison.

When he looked back, his previously empty table was filled with, just as Aoba feared, a gang of Asians.

"This is Seragaki, everyone." Koujaku said, and everyone in the group nodded. 

"I'm Clear!" A young man with pale skin and pale blonde hair said cheerfully. He was such a happy guy, and Aoba was suddenly curious what this guy did to get put into a medium security prison.

"I'm Mizuki, I'm the best tattoo artist in this prison." Mizuki looked to be a few years older than Aoba, and had tattoos covering his neck and arms. He had a tear drop on his face, and Aoba was suddenly offput. That meant he had killed someone, right?

"Ren," said a dark haired man with tribal-style facial tattoos.

"Noiz." Noiz, the only white guy at the table, was blonde and covered in bandages. He looked like someone who got into a lot of fights.

"Races stick together in prison, if you hadn't noticed." Koujaku said, and Aoba nodded. He had noticed, and was pretty sure he was the newest recruit in their Asian gang. That didn't explain Noiz, but he didn't question it. All the articles he read told him not to ask too many questions.

"So why are you in prison, Seragaki-san?" The cheerful one, Clear, asked. Aoba was shocked. Not only was the guy nearly dangerously cheerful, Aoba had been told by plenty of people that he shouldn't ask what anyone is in for.

"We keep telling him not to ask that, but he won't listen. He can hold his own in a fight, at least." Noiz said with a shrug. He had a German accent, and it only made Aoba more confused.

"It's fine. I uh, robbed a place at gunpoint. And had drugs on me when I got caught." Aoba said. Was it okay to talk about his crimes? There was so much about prison etiquette he didn't know. 

"Oh, that's neat. I ran a drug cartel. The biggest Asian ran cartel in America. They called me Crystal Clear, because I had the clearest meth you could find." Clear smiled when he said it, and Aoba almost choked on his food. A cheerful guy like Clear ran a drug cartel? Aoba was almost scared to imagine what the other guys had done.

"Shocking, right? We look like a group of pretty respectable people. But you're sitting with a murderer, a cartel head, a terrorist, a hacker, and a cannibal." Koujaku joked, and laughed when Aoba's eyes widened and scanned the table, trying to figure out who had committed which crime. Especially the cannibal. "Prison is a blast, trust me. You'll learn the ropes soon enough." 

Dinner ended almost too quickly for Aoba's liking. He was enjoying spending time with his newfound acquaintances. They were all violent psychopaths, but Aoba much preferred them to Mink.

Thankfully, though, there was an hour of leisure time that allowed the prisoners to do whatever they wanted. Aoba followed the Asian gang like a lost puppy to the exercise yard, and sat down next to Koujaku on a bench behind a tree. The older man pulled out a cigarette from his pants, and lit it up with a lighter shoved under the bench. 

"Is this allowed?" Aoba asked nervously as Koujaku passed the cigarette to Mizuki. It was his first day, he didn't want to immediately get in trouble.

"No," Koujaku exhaled smoke. "But the guards don't care. They don't get paid enough to punish us over a cigarette."

"That Native American guy gets to smoke, why can't we?" Mizuki asked as he exhaled and passed it to Clear. Clear took a big drag, and handed it off to Noiz.

"Same reason they don't get onto Ren for violations. That fucker is crazy. They wouldn't say a word to him." Koujaku laughed, and gave Ren a playful grin. Ren laughed, seeming not to care that Koujaku had called him crazy.

Noiz handed the cigarette to Aoba. With shaking hands, he held it to his lips and inhaled. It felt good to smoke, but it didn't satisfy the cravings Aoba was beginning to have. He hadn't touched a pill since his before sentencing that morning, and he didn't think he would be having any for a while. 

Well, he had said he wanted to get sober.

The 5 of them passed around the cigarette until it burnt out, and then Koujaku dug a hole with his heel and threw it in. After that, they sat around and talked for the rest of their hour, but Aoba found himself unable to focus towards the end of it. He was starting to crave a fix. He hadn't gone a day without being high in at least two years, and now had been cut off cold turkey. Soon, all Aoba could think about was getting high.

As the inmates started to filter back into the prison, Aoba caught up with Koujaku. He tugged on Koujaku's jumpsuit with shaking hands. "Hey, uh, do you know if the prison offers programs for addicts?" He asked softly. It was almost embarrassing to be asking someone who was basically a stranger for help like this, but Aoba was desperate. Best case scenario, he got methadone to help with the inevitable withdrawals. Worst case, he would have to deal with the crippling cravings on his own. That couldn't be so bad.

"The cravings must be getting to you, huh?" Koujaku asked. "Yeah, Clear's in Narcotics Anonymous. And you're in luck, because we're headed to our bullshit self-help groups now. Hey, Clear!"

The pale man turned and looked at Koujaku. 

"Do you have room in Narcotics Anonymous for Seragaki?" He asked, and Clear smiled and nodded.

"Of course! We always have room for those in need." Clear said. "Just come with me and I'll get you set up in our club."

Aoba nodded, and left Koujaku's side. It wasn't the fix he wanted, and he probably wouldn't get his methadone, but maybe getting clean was a better option. 

It was really the only option Aoba had.

With that in mind, Aoba followed Clear, and the two of them made their way to Narcotics Anonymous. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day ill write a dmmd fic that isn't trash I swear  
> one day I won't treat aoba badly   
> drugs and attempted rape tw for this chapter

That night, withdrawals hit Aoba like a ton of bricks, and, no matter what the inmates at the NA meeting he had attended said, no amount of self-forgiveness or prayer was going to help him. Sweat soaked through his jumpsuit and the flimsy sheets on his bed. It was hard for him to breathe. Anxiety ate away at his mind. 

"I should have let them just break my knees," he sobbed out to himself. Mink was in the other bed, but he was either asleep or ignoring Aoba. Either one was a possibility. Aoba curled himself up into the fetal position, and let out a broken, pained sob. He cursed Trip and Virus loudly, pushing the blame onto them.

Suddenly his clothes felt too tight, and he bolted upright in bed to pull them off. He got as far as his shirt before an overwhelming wave of nausea hit him. 

There was barely enough time to rush to the metal toilet before he started to puke out his mediocre dinner. His stomach cramped up, and once it was empty, Aoba let himself fall onto the cold concrete floor, and returned to the fetal position. It was uncomfortable, but it was cold and it felt good against his flushed, hot skin. Besides, Aoba had no idea if he was going to puke again.

By the time he was able to pull himself off the floor into a sitting position, he was shaking and his eyes watered so badly it looked like he had been crying. Honestly, it wouldn't have surprised Aoba if he had been crying. Every part of his body ached, and he couldn't stop himself from dry heaving. All he wanted was to get high. 

"Please, God, just give me one pill, one pill so I can stop this hell," Aoba prayed softly. The leader of NA told him he would only get over his addiction with the help of God. Well, Aoba was never religious, but he was asking for His help. "I just need a fix, just a half a pill, fuck, just let me lick one. Just give me a fix."

Aoba ended up passing out on the floor in front of the toilet. He only woke up when Mink nudged him with the heel of his foot a little too roughly, causing him to bolt up and towards his bed. 

Once he was up, though, Aoba immediately regretted moving. His whole body ached with a combination of the hours he spent on a concrete floor, and the withdrawals that only seemed to be getting worse. 

"You look like shit." Mink said gruffly, before slipping his cock out of his orange pants and taking a piss in the toilet right in front of Aoba. That was certainly a shock; at least, it would have been if Aoba could think about anything other than drugs at that moment. 

"I need pills," Aoba managed. His voice was pitifully weak. 

"Shouldn't have come to prison strung out. Withdrawals will kill you in here." Mink said. This was the most talkative Aoba had ever seen him, but he didn't stop to appreciate the moment.  

"Do you know how to get pills? There has to be a way. I just need one, just to set me straight." Aoba begged, and was too far gone to care about looking strong in front of his harsh cellmate. 

But Mink didn't answer. Instead, the door to their cell was opened up by a guard, and Mink left.

Somehow, Aoba got himself off of the ground and pulled the shirt he had discarded last night back on. On unsteady feet, he left the cell, and followed Mink at a distance. He wasn't sure where his cellmate was headed, but Aoba wasn't in his right mind and he couldn't stand being in his cell any longer. 

Turns out, Mink was headed towards the showers. Since Aoba was covered in sweat and felt terrible, he decided to strip down and take one himself. 

That ended up being a bad idea. 

"Look here, we've got us a girly one," a perverted voice called out. Aoba wasn't sure which guy in the shower said it, but it didn't matter. He didn't want any of them looking at him. So he ignored it, and stepped under the water of one of the shower heads. It helped his aching head and body, if only slightly. 

"Think we can get a fuck in before breakfast, hot stuff?" This time, Aoba saw who said it. It was an older guy, who was ugly and skinny. Glancing down, Aoba noticed he didn't have much going for him, size wise, either. 

"I won't fuck you, you pig." Despite the stereotypes, Aoba's bisexuality didn't incline him to fuck every dick he came across. This guy was gross, but even if he was a male model Aoba wouldn't fuck him in the state he was in, especially not in front of a crowd of prisoners. 

"What if I told you you didn't have a choice?" The ugly man was basically purring, and it made Aoba cringe. 

"I can kick your ass." Aoba sneered. He focused on getting himself clean and tried his best to show that he wouldn't give in. If he stayed firm, the pervert would have to leave him alone. That's what he hoped, anyways.

"A skinny little junkie like you couldn't fight me, let alone my friends." Aoba opened his mouth to respond, but the man didn't give him the chance. "Don't even try to deny it. I can see you shake. You're a junkie."

The man laughed, and suddenly Aoba felt hands on his body. 

"Let me go!" Aoba struggled, but the man wasn't entirely wrong. The two-year-long bender Aoba had been on had made him weak, and he couldn't even fend off the pair of hands groping at him. 

"Say, why don't you let me have a little bit of fun? I promise I'll get you a fix if you do." The man's voice was sultry and low, and Aoba felt like puking. Not because of the gross-factor of the man's hands roaming his chest, but because Aoba actually considered it. 

It wouldn't be the first time Aoba had traded sex for pills. Though that was normally with Trip or Virus, not some creepy stranger in a prison bathroom, and Aoba hadn't done it since he started dealing. But Aoba still felt sick, and his body ached, and the thought of a hit, even a half a pill, made his heart flutter. He barely made it through the withdrawals the night before, and it was only going to get worse as he detoxed further.

At the thought of another night spent puking and crying on a cold concrete floor, Aoba stopped struggling. It would be okay, just one time for a hit. Even though he couldn't see the man, Aoba knew he probably wore a smirk on his ugly face. One hit, it would all be worth it. Aoba closed his eyes tightly as the man's hands drifted further along down his body. This was Aoba's only choice. Even Mink had said that Aoba's withdrawals would kill him. As far as he was concerned, this was life or death. 

Aoba nearly yelped when the man's hand touched his soft dick. His hands were dry and rough, even under the running water from the shower. There was no pleasure in his touch, and Aoba gritted his teeth. It was disgusting, but it had to be done. He was going to die otherwise. His withdrawals would kill him. God had answered his prayers, and was giving him a hit, He was just testing him before he did it. The man moved a hand to Aoba's ass, and kneaded the flesh. No matter how disgusting it was, Aoba had to do it.

"Hey, get off of him!" A familiar echoed through the shower room. The man's hands dropped immediately, and Aoba almost whined out. No, no. He didn't want anything to do with the man using his body, but he wanted drugs. 

"He wanted it, Koujack, I swear! He wanted drugs from me! I didn't have any idea he was in your gang," the man defended himself, and Aoba mentally cursed Koujaku and his dumb gang of Asians. There was no way he would be able to find his fix now. He didn't open his eyes, and he didn't look towards Koujaku. 

"I think you're full of shit. Come on, Seragaki." Koujaku was pulling Aoba away and out of the shower. Aoba only opened his eyes to pull on his orange jumpsuit, and he still couldn't make eye contact with Koujaku. Getting caught in the act of turning tricks for a fix that, now that he thought about it, may have not even actually existed, was embarrassing.

Aoba didn't dare to look up when Koujaku lead him out of the shower room. He didn't know where he was being taken, and he didn't really care. His mind was being eaten up by shame, disgust, and that ever-present, nagging craving for opiates.

Eventually, Koujaku stopped dragging him. Aoba had no idea where they were, and he didn't want to look up to find out.

"So you were going to have sex with that man for drugs?" Koujaku asked. Aoba still looked down, and that must have answered the question for him. "You've been here less than 24 hours and you're already selling your body for drugs. There's easier ways to get them, Aoba."

"There is?" Ignoring his shame, Aoba's head shot up. The need for drugs overpowered anything else. He still shook and his body still ached, and he didn't want to feel anything anymore. 

"I'll talk to Noiz. That little shit can get his hands on anything. It might take me a few days, but we'll work something out." Koujaku explained. "In the mean time, you won't fuck anyone, you won't be anyone's bitch. You're part of my gang now, and I don't want you making us look bad. Understand?"

Aoba nodded. He was going in and out, but he understood enough. He was going to get a fix, and everything was going to end up being okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive never been to prison and i have no idea how prison trades work so please excuse me for the next chapters as I try and work out how the hell theyre gonna get pills  
> i have also never been addicted to opiates, so my depiction of withdrawals might be bad, I kind of just made them like extreme nicotine fits with a few added symptoms


End file.
